


Haze

by waterlinkedgirl



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: High Summer flirting, M/M, Tenirabi zine winter 2019, pure concentrated thirst, they're probably going to have a hot and wet time in the pool after this, waterfight, waterfight ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:48:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22725664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waterlinkedgirl/pseuds/waterlinkedgirl
Summary: Written for the 2019 Winter tenirabi zine! Find the full zine and all of its beautiful works here: http://meteorlatte.com/tenirabizine.pdf
Relationships: Shiraishi Kuranosuke/Yukimura Seiichi
Kudos: 4





	Haze

A deep adrenaline droned through Yukimura's veins.

The battlefield was hot, signed by the mirage of the searing sun. His senses sharpened to it, to the heat burning on his skin as if it were glowing coals. The faint screams of those who opened fire and those who fell victim alike, of his lungs fighting to take in enough of the summer air to keep up.  
The quiet rush of the trigger under his finger, with which he had opened fire dozens of time, and would a dozen more.  
But... Things were looking dire.  
Marui had already fallen, unable to defend from three guns from two sides, and he himself had only narrowly avoided an ambush set up by Oshitari, projectile razing past his ear.  
No matter how he looked at it, he was outgunned.

Stealth. Stealth was vital.

As swiftly, quietly as he could he let his bare feet carry him, away from the center stage with the cannons in the midst of the onslaught. Cover to cover, sneaking under all lines of sight.

It was no behaviour for someone of the champion Rikkai, but if he wanted to secure dominance again, he couldn't veer recklessly into battle. Tact, too, was an important virtue in his name, he knew that better than anyone else.  
And he'd make use of it as much as necessary.

Keeping his eyes and ears on the motions of the others, he sought for a less fleeting shelter while they were distracted with hunting each other down. A wall, a space, a haven out of sight...  
His eye fell on a narrow ridge between the castle and the pool, a corner for cover against the spray of fire. That's it.

It was a bit of a long run, longer than he'd have preferred to stay uncovered, perhaps longer than he could afford to stay uncovered—

As expected of someone like himself, he'd managed to stay dry, avoiding supersoakers and water cannons alike. The only water on him was the sweat on his forehead and on his back.  
He intended for it to remain that way.

So he ran, watergun in hand, hardly hanging on to his grace as strongest player in the middle school circuit just to make for that one sliver of safety. Metres and metres, step after step, over the field. He ran, knowing that that very drumming of feet might betray him, nonetheless.

And finally he passed the corner.

Back against the plastic of the wall, August sun burning in his face, Yukimura tried to calm his breath. Much to his fortune, the wall opposite of the pool was deeper than the corner itself, leaving aside from the geometrical cover also a small buffer, a small pillar to hide behind.   
He'd have time to regroup here for a bit, hopefully.

The pillar on his left hand stole his sight as much as it did his opponents', however, he had his ears to his advantage. Sharpening them to pick up his surroundings instead, he closed his eyes.

A brief moment of respite, to rest his burning muscles, to clear his mind to find the next step.

His hearing flashed to the splashing of water nearby.  
It couldn't be— here?!  
Instinctively, his index finger went to the trigger of his water gun. Surely they couldn't be ambushing them from the water, they couldn't be that bold, right? And besides, Marui and the rest were supposed to be over at the plaza—  
He pointed it at the place he last heard the splashing from. Who was it?!

The surface broke. Holding on to his prized composure, instead of making the rash decision of firing before he knew who was popping up from underwater, he held his trigger until he could make eyecontact.

A rain of droplets descended on familiar dark blond hair. His gun lowered.

"You know that shirt is totally gonna go see-through, right? Seiichi."  
Shiraishi leaned on the edge of the pool, arms folded over one another.

In an instant, the tension that had resided in his shoulders disappeared. He closed his eyes, let out a breath. When he opened them again, he put his finger to his lips.

"Ssh. You'll betray where I'm hiding," he whispered.

Shiraishi wasn't in the game, he was one of those that had chosen to cool themselves in the pool rather than with honey lemons in the boulevard. Or, rather than those like himself.  
By all means, he shouldn't have to pose any danger.

"You're hiding?"  
The corners of Shiraishi's mouth softly curled up as he leaned his head on his hands.

He shouldn't have to, but the look in Shiraishi's eyes...  
"Regrouping," he corrected.  
Shiraishi chuckled. "Other than that, are you doing well?"  
"As you can see," Yukimura pulled his sweater closer over his shoulders, "I am. I've emptied this boy three times already."  
He held up his gun.

"Not on yourself, I presume."  
One of Shiraishi's arms stretched loosely over the ground, not quite far enough to reach him. He looked at him, at the sweater hanging lightly over his shoulders.

Yukimura laughed. "Why would I?"

Shiraishi hummed, let his body go from the edge. "So that's the game you're playing," he whispered.  
"Of course."  
Upon that remark, Yukimura's attention swiftly shifted back to the game, head turned, ears focussed on localising the others. Ootori was far, Marui and Ohmagari perhaps a bit closer, but—

He heard the sound of water splashing at his feet. When he looked, Shiraishi's hands raked up the water of the pool, an arm's length away from the edge. Playfully still, but enough to drizzle his ankles.  
"Kura, don't, you'll make me wet—"

Shiraishi laughed, arms tentatively halting in midair.  
"I thought I'd join for a bit. If you're relying on others to shoot at you, why shouldn't I help?"

Now that Shiraishi'd taken a bit of distance, Yukimura could see clearly, very clearly into his open vest. He had to look away from the show of cleavage, lest it'd distract him...  
But the glimmer in Shiraishi's eyes told him that he'd noticed.

"You're misinterpreting something here. I'm in this game to win, Kuranosuke. Which means, I have no plans of getting wet."  
Shiraishi frowned at him. "But you know not getting wet is defeating the purpose of the game."  
"I don't care if it should be my purpose to lose. If I have to take the hard road to win, then let it be so."  
And win, he would. It's why he had absolute confidence in his white shirt.

Shiraishi fell silent, thumb on his lips. His gaze was intense, fixed on the lines of Yukimura's torso, simmering still but almost with a hint of sadness, worry. Yukimura wondered if he was imagining Yukimura losing... It'd have to be, with that fire in his eyes. Though there was nothing for him to be worried about, he should know that.   
Yukimura smiled. "Have some confidence in me, Kuranosuke."  
"I do." Shiraishi said that, but it didn't clear the sentiment from his eyes.

He saw Shiraishi's gaze fall on his hair, which Yukimura knew was vaguely sticking to his face.  
Once again Shiraishi leaned on the edge of the pool, shoulders pulling the jacket tight enough to his skin Yukimura could imagine looking through it.  
"Hey, Seiichi," he whispered, purred, "It's much cooler in the water. Won't you join me?"  
There it was. The question he'd been waiting for.   
Yukimura smiled, walked over to him.  
"Perhaps you should listen better?"

He knelt down, one arm resting on his knee, the other resting the barrel of his gun under Shiraishi's chin. His voice, lowered to a sultry whisper.  
"Only _after_ I win."

As much a promise as a warning.

Yukimura lifted Shiraishi's chin with his water gun, barrel slowly sliding over the soft of Shiraishi's skin as he tilted his chin with it. And with every notch he raised it, he saw the volume of Shiraishi's breaths rise, up until their lines of sight met and he was tenderly fingering the trigger.  
Lips slightly parted. Something he could best describe as sighs, languid breaths, rose cheeks. A smirk, slowly curling into the corners of Shiraishi's mouth.

Shiraishi gently traced the barrel with his fingers, his hand slowly travelling up its length, down, up.  
"And what do I have to fear from that?" he whispered breathily. "I'm already drenched, you know?"

Yukimura chuckled.  
"You should know the answer."  
Shiraishi's fingers turned to its bottom, softly pushing it further up against his chin.  
"Don't I?"  
Gently, the backs of his fingers grazed over the barrel, up to caress Yukimura's hand, to cradle it. His thumb on Yukimura's index finger, challenging him to shoot.

"I wonder..."  
He felt his heart beating in his chest.

With the cool of the water lingering on Shiraishi's fingertips, the electricity of his hand around his, Yukimura couldn't deny it was tempting. But...  
Paradoxically, it was the sun searing on his skin from above that reminded him he had a game to win, before he could give answer to Shiraishi's sweet invitation. He wiped the sweat off his forehead with his free hand, quietly slipping his hand out of the hot and cold hold.

It was too early to give in to his desires.

"Unfortunately it's not now for you to find that out," he whispered.   
Yukimura swallowed, looking up at the azure sky above. His ears picked up the noises of the waterfight, the engages, not too far from the center stage. He closed his eyes. There were plans forming in his head, but only shreds of them remained as the warmth of the sun took away his breath.

Only now he became aware that his breaths were deeper than usual. He let the summer air fill his lungs, then let it out in a deep sigh to calm his breath, and once more he ran the ball of his hand over his forehead.

"I can't yield just yet."  
Along with his head, he lowered his hand, briefly holding the glimmering lines of his palm in his vision. A slight frown made it in the lines of his face. His hand closed.  
He wondered how much time it'd take before he could win.  
Letting out a sigh, he put his hands on his knees, lifting himself off the floor on the way to his warpath.

A wet warmth tightening around his wrist halted him in his rise.

Shiraishi's hand pulled him as he swam away from the edge of the pool. Towards him, closer to him. Guided by the tug of the bandaged hand on his right arm, the pull of Shiraishi's eyes, Yukimura was hovering above the surface of the water.

Brown eyes caught his. Warm eyes, not scorching like the sun above but more like the honey glazing the lemons of the boulevard. Surely, they covered the same taste as well...  
His arms opened through the water. Drops of water glittered in Shiraishi's hair, lips curled into a reaffirming smile, a smile tinged with mischief.

He's going to fall.

The surface of the water broke in a curtain of bubbles around him, around them as they sank in the cool water of the pool. Shiraishi's hand no longer held on to his wrist, instead he saw its shadow move past the corner of his eye, his purple-blue hair grazing Shiraishi's bandage.  
And as he sank, Shiraishi caught him in his chest, arm on the small of his back.

It took but a tap of a foot on the floor to lift the two of them into the air again.   
A quick gasp, to make up for lost air, and his feet as well touched the tiles of the pool.  
Dismayed he shook out his hair, before brushing it from his face. 

His own arms were free to do that, but Shiraishi's were occupied; his right around his middle, his left thumb reaching for his cheek. Arms, very conveniently in the water.

"What," Yukimura whispered, smile on his face, "do you think you're doing?"

Where he had been on a warpath before, right now, he quite felt like performing a massacre on the one before him. An idle thought, he knew, as he wouldn't be able to bring himself to hurt him, but Shiraishi would pay. One way or another.

However....  
Even in the face of his bloodlust, as if he hadn't noticed— no, because he had noticed, Shiraishi's lips and voice were tinged by a mirthful smirk.

"See? I told you it was gonna go see-through."  
And Shiraishi's hand lowered to the collar of Yukimura's shirt.

In an instant, Yukimura became aware of Shiraishi's bare chest, against the shirt now clinging to his midriff. It was warm, and familiar, but it didn't take much for Yukimura to deduce just how much Shiraishi could see of his skin from its touch.

Almost subconsciously, Yukimura's hand went over the wet skin of Shiraishi's chest, fingertips on the edge of nails. He felt compelled to do a lot of things, however his composure kept him in check.

He lost. Shiraishi made him lose.

Anger and frustration boiled through his body. He held on to those feelings as he quietly pressed his fingertips against Shiraishi's heinously soft skin, he tried to, but for some reason it felt like a weight had fallen off his shoulders... Though that was likely his sweater, now floating around somewhere in the water.

He raised his free hand up to Shiraishi's cheek, a preface to his fury. Shiraishi, however, closed his eyes, eagerly leaning into Yukimura's touch.

"What do you think you're doing?" he repeated, not managing to convey as much of his earlier anger.  
Shiraishi chuckled, slowly opening his eyes again as he overlaid Yukimura's hand with his own.  
"It's not good staying in the heat for so long... I'm just thinking of your health."  
Quietly his hand slipped away from under Shiraishi's, as much to his own regret as of his, fingertips travelling leisurely down over his jaw.  
Yukimura put his finger on Shiraishi's lips.  
"Just that?"

Shiraishi smiled. "It's the truth." It was a whisper, breathed against Yukimura's index resting against his lips. "But if I said I didn't have ulterior motives, I'd be lying."

Hot and soft, Shiraishi's lips brushed over the tip, tingling his skin.   
Wet, and gentle, as light as a kiss.

Nonetheless, Yukimura felt the urge to resist, to address, and dipped it down over his bottom lip.  
"I really don't appreciate you doing things like this without asking," he whispered.

"Both of us know you'd have said no."   
Shiraishi's voice rang clear, a sturdy cool piercing the heat of earlier, before softening again. "Seeing you force yourself like that... I don't want to watch you get hurt."  
Shiraishi's hand reached towards Yukimura's own cheek. "Much less over a game you don't even seem to have fun playing."  
Yukimura blinked.  
"'Don't even'—"  
"Am I wrong?" he asked, softly.

Yukimura was left without a retort. 

"...I was going to win," he said, though it was less of an argument and more of an affirmation of Shiraishi's truth. He was going to win, with the same sovereignty he held in tennis, until he could taste the sweet of victory. But...  
Shiraishi gently scooped water up to drizzle into Yukimura's hair, his neck. It was cool, and while it rubbed his loss in, it felt incredibly nice.  
Shiraishi hummed in affirmation.  
"You were sweating too much. If you'd gone out for another round as you were, the heat and the effort would have put you in danger." 

Yukimura had been endeavouring to win, but at the same time, the victory conditions weren't exactly defined, other than to avoid losing. And losing...  
At this rate, even if he won, it would have been Pyrrhic at best. He knew that much.

Shiraishi raised his hand again from the water, his thumb moving to caress Yukimura's cheek, fingers resting under his jawline.

"Besides," Shiraishi's voice rolled lowly, a flirty smirk on his lips. "I'd rather see you do something I know you'd enjoy a bit more."   
He felt warm fingertips travel down over his neck to his collarbone, where they traced its lines over and beside his shirt. Before he could speak up again, he had to swallow a sigh.  
"And what exactly makes you think I had that particular desire when you pulled me in?"

Shiraishi smiled. His fingers trailed to his shoulder, over his arm, until they curled around the hand still lingering over his jaw. Guiding his fingers between his own, he moved them, turned them, until they rested under his chin.  
"Just a hunch."

The underside of Shiraishi's chin was soft as he trailed his fingers over it, cradled it in his hand. Shiraishi had put Yukimura's hand on the trigger, tempting him once more to pull it.

Leisurely abusing his opened jacket, Yukimura let his free hand go over the lines, and bumps, of Shiraishi's chest. He was here now, he thought, as his fingertips shifted over the breathing of Shiraishi's midriff. He was here, Shiraishi's arm still around his waist, a warmth melding the heat of their bodies together.   
It was now up to Yukimura to call the shots. His thumb ran over his chin, over Shiraishi's lips, in soft and slow arcs meant at the very least to tease.

"You aren't in the wrong," Yukimura posed, "but that doesn't mean it was right."  
A quiet smile spread across Shiraishi's face, as he slightly tilted his head under Yukimura's caress.  
"Then make me pay for it."  
One eyebrow raised.  
"You know if I really wanted to do that, that'd involve leaving you here?"  
Shiraishi laid his hand on the side of Yukimura's head, fingers through his locks, to stroke his dripping hair. His nose briefly nuzzled Yukimura's, before he moved back enough for him to see his eyes glimmer in mischief.  
"But would you have fun that way?"  
Yukimura smiled. His thumb stalled its motion and instead went to rest on Shiraishi's chin.  
"No..." he breathed, closing his eyes, "I suppose I wouldn't."

Yukimura pulled Shiraishi's face closer, and leaned in.

"Um..." They startled, pulled away before their lips properly touched. "I heard a big splash, are you alright?"   
Ootori stood at the edge of the pool, slightly away from the ridge near the castle. Figures behind him, running and laughing. That's right, he'd been playing a game...  
"I'm alright," Yukimura half-whispered.  
"That's good to hear." Ootori smiled at him. Yukimura knew he'd noticed him standing far to close in Shiraishi's space, but he made no remark about it. "When you didn't come back I thought you might've hurt yourself falling..."  
"I landed soft," he remarked, his voice coloured slightly in amusement for its meaning. He shot a glance at Shiraishi, whose arms he was still merrily partaking in.

Ootori laughed nervously, before tentatively speaking up again.  
"Are you still in?"

Yukimura blinked. He was asking him if he wanted to join again? Even though he'd...  
Softly, Shiraishi's hand caressed his hair, even now. Yukimura knew he'd let him go if he wanted to, but for now he felt his gentle touch wherever his skin heated his own, warm up to his eyes.  
He saw his water gun, lying idly on the ledge he'd been standing on. Beyond his arm's reach.

"No. I've won."  
"H-Huh—"  
"It's fine, Ootori-kun." Completely soaked, he wrapped his arms around Shiraishi, resting his right on his shoulders.  
"I've won." He smiled.

"But..."  
Whatever point Ootori wanted to make, it was swallowed when Yukimura trailed over Shiraishi's neck with his fingers from where his arm had curled around it, slowly, sensually.  
"Alright. If there's anything that comes up..."  
Yukimura smiled. Ootori really was too sweet for his own good.  
"I'll call you if I need you."  
Ootori smiled and nodded. "Anytime is fine. Then, I'll be taking my leave."  
"Watch your back," Yukimura told him.  
Very quickly, Ootori looked over his shoulder, Oshitari not too far off from where he was standing. He might have closed his heart, but that didn't make him invisible.  
"Thanks!"

And the moment Ootori turned around, when Shiraishi was still distracted, he leaned forward and opened Shiraishi's lips with his own.  
Shiraishi was barely able to mute his yelp, knowing Ootori was still within earshot, but a breathless hum escaped nonetheless as Yukimura deepened it. It took Shiraishi not a second more to melt into it, though. Lips softly sliding along Yukimura's, catching him in a push and pull stronger than the waves on the water, it was Yukimura's turn to try to keep his breath in check. 

And when Yukimura leaned back, lips briefly disconnecting, Shiraishi leaned forward to return the favour again. Just as he hoped.  
His left foot as pivot, a pull of the arm around his shoulders, Yukimura took advantage of that momentum to turn the two around.

With increased vigour, Yukimura chased Shiraishi with his lips, deeper into his arms, closer. A step forward as Shiraishi took one backward, a push when Shiraishi pulled, until Yukimura's arm unfolded from his back and they finally came to rest at the nearest wall.

Hand on the cold tiles, right at Shiraishi's middle, and the second he felt Shiraishi's back hit the wall their tongues tangled with each other. It was a deep kiss, searing hot and only broken by pants, breaths.

His role in the waterfight above the surface was over, but now...  
Yukimura pressed his hips tighter to Shiraishi's, cornering him to the wall when Shiraishi's leg slipped between his own. Smirked, when Shiraishi pulled him closer with the hand still in his hair.   
He let his hand go over his abs, stroking them with the tips of his fingers before quietly slipping beneath the surface. Shiraishi broke to gasp.

Now it's time for a different kind of 'waterfight,' he supposed.


End file.
